panacea
by enter name here
Summary: chap two up Post-Hogwarts, Oliver Wood finds himself surrounded by a gay british man, an annoying american girl, and some guy with an odd scar on his forehead...rr
1. an attempt to tip the scales

a/n this is my first Harry Potter fic, so please review and then I shall continue with the story and come on people, we all love Oliver Wood fics, other characters shall be joining soon and ph, yeah.  
  
disclaimer- I own nothing but Ezra and he's just a little slut, so that's not saying much, everything else is J.K. Rowlings and whomever she decides to sell the respective rights to.  
  
-----  
  
The doorbell cuts through any fragment of a dream I may have been having, of course at the moment I can't remember a single detail, but that won't keep me from cursing the damn person on the other side of the door that knocked me from it. I sit up to exit my bed, just to find my legs tangled in between the silver and crimson sheets. I grab a book from my bedside table, examining it's cover quickly, not really reading the title, just a reflex of what I should do and lob the thing at the wall, hoping, somehow, that Ezra will hear and answer the door on his own.  
  
I wait, holding my breath, while still struggling with the cotton sheets, he hasn't, this fact made apparent to me simply because the nasal voice of this weeks new obsession hasn't even been turned down a notch. Finally I manage to liberate myself, my feet land on the soft carpet, as I pull a sweater from a nearby chair, I glance down at the scene of my great victory, of course the battle had been with an inanimate object, but I had won, and I'll take any glory that will come to me. I pad through the hallway, pulling the large sweater over my head during me trek, it has to be early, I pushed open Ezra's door, glaring at him as he sits, full reclined in a leather seat, a remote control held in his hand as he swings in my direction.  
  
"There's someone at the door." My voice is barely audible over the music, he, reluctantly turns the volume down.  
  
"What'd ya say, Ollie me dear?" He bats his eyelashes, happy to anger me even more. I glare at him, trying to give him a fitting scowl, but it's difficult as soon as I notice the bright, almost neon, pink eye shadow that seams piled on his skin. He glares back, slowly turning the volume of his music up, I shut the door, forgetting my anger and just feeling the urge to laugh at my odd choice in best friends, of course I wouldn't change him for anyth-  
  
RING!  
  
-Goddamn, bloody fucking bell.  
  
My hand grasps the small metal handle as I pull the door open, closing my eyes and giving the best smile I can muster in the morning to this. person.  
  
"Hello." My voice comes out in monotone, a simple side effect of my abrupt awakening, the person brushes up against me, a he, well, unless it's an extremely flat chested she, I open my eyes to find his spiked hair pushed up against my face as his neck cranes over my shoulder.  
  
"Is Ezra here?" I nod, letting him in, he backs down, resting upon the heels of his feet, a few inches shorter than myself. "You are?" His eyes glance over my face, my ears suddenly burning. He yawns, rubbing the traces of black eyeliner from around his muddy brown eyes, still, obviously, awaiting my answer.  
  
"Ermm.."He lets his hands fall, a smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Ermm? Some name."  
  
"Wood. Oliver Wood." Social interaction, outside of ordering team mates of what move they should make next had never been my strong point. He nods again, sighing, a sign that he's bored with me already, he slides past, a yard or so away clears his throat, forcing me to turn around.  
  
"Well, Wood, nice boxers." His fingers grab the hem of my black bowers, pulling on them a bit; he looks up at me, smiling again. He leaves, instinctively finding his way into Ezra's room, but not before sending me one more smirk.  
  
------ 


	2. false advertising

a/n shitty to say the least, oh well.more soon.  
  
-----  
  
Ezra sat comfortably in the kitchen, a small smirk still on his  
lips as he stares indolently out the patio window, the man of  
this morning long gone. I take a sip from the extremely fresh  
coffee, wincing as its bitter taste fills my mouth, quickly  
swallowing it down, waiting impatiently for the after-effects,  
the caffeine intoxication, pounding fiercely through my blood  
stream.  
  
"You know, Oliver, this flat has three rooms." I'm once  
again slapped away from my privacy and plummet in to the  
conversation that Ezra has picked up. I look down at him, from  
my position against the counter.  
  
"You're just noticing this." I wave my hand impassively in  
the air; Ezra notices this, cocking a black eyebrow at my  
movement. He's been trying to talk me into the fact that I have  
to be a repressive bi-sexual at least, his main fact, I spend  
most of the day surrounded by other guys in tight little  
uniforms, and I push myself to be manly by trying to conquer  
everything that surrounds me. "Fuck off." My voice raspy as I  
bring the mug to my lips again, Ezra laughs again.  
  
"Ollie, dear, pinky out, now," He sticks his boney pinky  
finger high into the air. "Like a proper lady."  
  
"Just get back to the room." He shakes his head, muttering  
a quick sorry before looking back up at me.  
  
"I just though we could rent it out, you know, save a  
couple bucks, we never have guests. well that don't sleep in our  
rooms anyways, make the rent easier to pay." His eyes plead with  
me to simply nod my head; his fingers reach up to push over a  
strand of black hair that has obstructed his view.  
  
"Puddlemere already picks up half the rent, at least." He  
crosses his arms, glancing once again towards the window.  
  
"Well, not all of us can be pretty little Quidditch  
players, now can we?" I glance down at the watch on my wrist, I  
have half an hour before practice.  
  
"Ez, do what ever you please, I'll put an ad in the Daily  
Prophet, for you if it means that much." The smile comes back to  
his face.  
  
"You're serious?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, just don't get some raving lunatic; I don't  
want some person living here just because you fancy him." I  
start to move from the kitchen, throwing the mug into the sink,  
Ezra jumps slightly, but stays in his chair.  
  
"Don't worry she's perfectly sane." My feet stop at their  
current position. "She's coming over here tonight, to move in."  
I can hear him wincing, his voice hushed, hoping I won't hear. I  
turn back around, giving him one last glare before picking my  
bag from the hallway and apparating to the pitch.  
  
----- 


End file.
